She detected no jealousy in his tone. “What does your brother do now?”
“He sells insurance,” Toby said without a trace of irony. “And he’s damned good at it. I wish I saw more of him, but he lives out in Minnesota, near my parents.”
“Were you an athlete, too?”
“I did some sports, but I was never as good as he was.” Toby shrugged. “I followed my own path. Sciences, college, med school.” As they ate, he told her about his years in college and then at Yale Medical School. He’d met his wife in college, and they’d gotten married and moved to New Haven when he’d started medical school. She’d taken a job with a local television station, selling advertising. She’d been good at her job, he said, but once she’d become pregnant her commitment to her career had faltered. And he’d decided not to pursue one of the more time-consuming specializations, because he’d wanted to have time for his daughter.
He told Susannah that once he and his wife had settled in Arlington, she’d decided to return to work, designing ads for the Arlington Gazette on a part-time basis. Lindsey had adjusted well to preschool. Toby had begun to pursue a subspecialization in pediatric cardiology. He loved working with children, knowing his patients practically from the moment they were born, watching them grow and thrive. He thought kids were fantastic. In fact, he’d pretty much thought his life was perfect until Jane had been diagnosed and everything changed.
“You must miss her,” Susannah murmured, sympathetic and also gratified that Toby kept sending her signals that this meal wasn’t a romantic adventure. He wouldn’t have kept discussing his wife with her if it was.
“Yes and no,” he admitted, nudging his plate away and lifting his refilled wineglass. He swirled the ruby fluid in the bowl, then took a sip. “I miss her sometimes. But on a day-to-day basis…I have a life. Maybe not enough of one yet, but I’m working on it. And it’s mine.”
“How do you build a new life?” Susannah asked, genuinely curious. She was trying to build a new life for herself, but she’d barely started, and she didn’t know if she was doing it right.
“My Daddy School teacher tells me I need to put my own needs first. That’s not something I’m used to doing. But I’m trying.”
Susannah would bet he wasn’t used to it. He lived for Lindsey, and he’d doted on his wife through her illness, and his patients were always on his mind.
She wasn’t used to putting her own needs first, either. But like him, she was trying. How odd that she and Toby were going through the same thing, in their own ways.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
She hadn’t realized she was grinning. “Just that we’re both trying to learn how to be selfish.”
“It’s a whole new thing, huh? Maybe we ought to start a movement—‘All me, all the time.’”
“God, no! There are more than enough selfish people in the world. They don’t need encouragement.”
“Just you and me, then. We’ll make our own movement. We can be completely egotistical and self-serving.”
“Sure. Why not?”
He laughed. “You can’t have anymore wine. I want it all for myself,” he teased before refilling her glass.
“That was the most unconvincing acting I’ve ever seen,” she criticized. His smile was contagious. It warmed her from the inside out, like the wine.
“Maybe after I teach you everything about being a pediatrician, you can teach me about acting.”
“No,” she said swiftly, her smile fading. “That part of my life is behind me.”
“You don’t think you’ll ever go back to it?”
She started to say no again, then rethought her answer. She’d actually enjoyed acting. It had been everything else about her career she’d hated—the pressures and demands, the lack of choices, the control everyone had exerted over her. The fact that she’d sacrificed such a large part of her life to it, and been taken advantage of by her family.
“Maybe,” she allowed, “I’ll join a community theater. Is there one in Arlington?”
He nodded. “In the summer, when all the city people spend their weekends in the area. I guess you’d call it summer stock. They’d be thrilled to have you.”
The waiter returned to their table to clear away their plates and inquire about dessert. Susannah declined with a shake of her head. She wasn’t used to eating big, heavy dinners. If not for Toby’s invitations, she’d be eating tuna fish or salad for supper every night.
He asked for the check, handed the waiter his credit card and settled the bill. Susannah watched him, envying his poise. She’d started to unwind during dinner, but now her anxiety returned. What would happen when they left the restaurant? When they got back to her house, what would he expect?
His hair looked nearly black in the dimly lit corner of the dining room. His hands looked strong wielding the pen, flipping open his wallet, separating his receipt from the restaurant’s. She knew his hands would feel as strong as they looked—strong but graceful. Talented. Hands that healed babies, she thought. Hands that comforted sick children. Hands that applauded for his daughter on the soccer field.
Hands that could hold a woman, caress her, arouse her. Hands that could touch her the way Susannah hadn’t been touched since she’d kicked Stephen out of her life.
She blinked and glanced away. She wasn’t going to let Toby touch her tonight.
They left the restaurant for the mild, moonlit night. It was only nine-thirty, early enough to take a walk or a drive, to catch a late movie—except that he had an unsupervised daughter at home. Which was just as well, Susannah told herself. If she spent more time with him, she’d feel closer to him, and if she felt closer, she’d grow more vulnerable to him and to her own troublesome yearnings. But that threat wouldn’t materialize. He wouldn’t prolong their evening with a movie or a walk…or anything else. He would have to go straight home to Lindsey.
He helped her into the car, then climbed in behind the wheel. “See?” he said, apparently pleased. “You got through a few hours in a restaurant without any fans pestering you.”
“I know.” She shared his smile. “What a pleasure.”
“Did people pester you in Hollywood? When you went out to dinner, I mean.”
“Sometimes.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “There was always jockeying for a table. You’d want to sit at the right table in the right restaurant at the right time, so the right people would see you.”
“You’re kidding. Really?” He appeared astonished.
“Yes, really. Do you find that shocking?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not shocked by what you said. I’m shocked that Lindsey knew about this. She warned me today that I needed to know about sitting at the right table in the right restaurant and all. She knows more about showbiz than I do.”
“She’s young. I’m sure it seems exciting to her.”
“She wants to be a star when she grows up,” he said, starting the engine and backing out of the parking space. “I’m hoping she’ll outgrow that.”
“I’d be happy to tell her all about the dark side of showbiz life,” Susannah offered.
He shook his head again, this time serious. “Don’t. It’s her dream. Nobody should ever skewer a kid’s dream. Let her enjoy it.”
Susannah blinked again. She didn’t want to think Toby was wonderful. She didn’t want to be so aware of everything about him—not just his long legs and chiseled features and those big male hands, but also his kindness and sensitivity to his daughter. Please, she implored him silently, do something awful. Be obnoxious. Belch or launch into a boring monologue about sports. Do something offensive so I can stop liking you so much.
But he didn’t belch, didn’t comment on the way the baseball season was shaping up, didn’t say he hoped Lindsey would stop daydreaming, didn’t say he thought Susannah was actually quite selfish and ought to have continued supporting her family. He simply drove home through the quiet streets of Arlington, an enigmatic smile c
urving his lips.
As she’d predicted, he walked her to her front door. They climbed the steps to the porch, and she noticed MacKenzie’s silhouette filling one of the windows in the living room, where she’d left a lamp on. The impatiens she’d hung on the porch looked nearly white in the silver moonlight. The porch lamp spilled a cone of brighter light in front of the door.
“This was lovely,” she said, her heart thumping in anticipation, in dread. She wanted him to kiss her good-night, but not a real kiss, not a kiss that would entrance her. Not a kiss that would make her careless and mindless and eager to give too much. Just a peck on the cheek, because they were friends.
“We should do it again.”
“I’d like that.” She turned from him and inserted her key in the lock. Her pulse drummed in her ears. He stood so close behind her she could feel his warmth along her back, his breath against her hair.
She fumbled with the key. He reached around her and closed his hand over hers. His touch, just a brush of warmth, fingers against fingers, nearly undid her. He eased the key from her trembling fingers and unlocked the door for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the way she imagined a typical sixteen-year-old would feel coming home from her first date with an awesome guy. Edgy, panicked and seized by a treacherous longing.
She could have sworn a million times that she didn’t want him to take her in his arms. But he circled them around her, and her heart told her she truly wanted this, wanted it more than she should. Wanted it more than she could remember wanting anything in a long time.
For just one moment she would ignore the danger.
Chapter Ten
IF ASKING SUSANNAH out had been a significant step in Toby’s living his own life, kissing her seemed the most essential step of all. When his lips touched hers, he felt more alive than he’d ever felt before.
Dinner had been terrific. He’d enjoyed talking to her, listening to her, laughing with her. But this…This was unbelievable.
She tasted of wine and warmth, her mouth opening eagerly beneath his, her tongue darting out to touch his. As he pulled her closer she ringed his waist with her arms and nestled against him, as if seeking sex and safety at the same time.
He didn’t want to offer her safety.
He moved his hands up and down her back, feeling the delicate angles of her shoulder blades, the narrow ridge of her spine, the weight of her hair against his knuckles. He roamed to her nape, then reversed direction, sliding down to the small of her back, to the swell of her hips. All the while he kissed her, deep, hungry, greedy kisses, drinking her in, absorbing her sighs.
His body hummed with energy. He felt hard all over, not just in his groin but in his chest, his thighs, his arms. His muscles tensed in delicious agony. If he and Susannah hadn’t been standing on her front porch in full view of anyone who might come along, he would have lifted her skirt and moved his hand between her legs, making her as ready as he was.
But they were on her front porch, and even though he had his back to the street, he was not in the sort of condition a man ought to be in while standing where his neighbors could see him. Behind her, the door was open. He’d unlocked it himself. All she had to do was invite him in.
She sighed again, then gasped as he tightened his hold and angled her hips to his. “Toby,” she whispered, her lips rubbing erotically against his as she spoke his name.
“Yes.” His voice sounded as breathless as hers.
She touched her mouth to his chin, then tucked her head into the hollow of his neck.
Ask me in, he pleaded silently. Tell me you want this as much as I do.
He felt her lips brush his throat. His fingers flexed against the soft curves of her bottom, rocking her to him.
“We can’t…” She let out a broken breath, her body so snug against him he could feel the contours of her breasts pressing into his chest.
“We’re outside. I know,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly calm given his anything-but-calm state.
She hugged him, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder. She said nothing for a minute, and he willed himself to relax, to lower his expectations. But then she thrilled him by saying, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Yes.” He had no interest in coffee, but he wanted to go inside with her. And that was what she was really talking about—not coffee but going inside.
Reluctantly, she eased out of his arms. She avoided making eye contact with him as she turned away and twisted the doorknob. The door swung inward and Toby followed her into the front hall, closing the door behind him.
She still didn’t look at him. He wondered why. Certainly, she couldn’t have developed a sudden case of bashfulness. Her kisses out on the porch had hardly been bashful. What had changed between those kisses and now—other than their having moved indoors, where kisses could lead to something much more intimate?
Intimacy was impossible if Susannah wouldn’t even look at him. He restrained himself from hauling her back into his arms, and instead watched her cautiously, remaining where he was while she started toward the kitchen. “I have both regular and decaf,” she said, her tone artificially bright.
“I don’t really want coffee,” he told her.
She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him, though she didn’t lift her eyes all the way to his face. “I do,” she finally said, and headed down the hall.
Lacking a better idea, he followed her. He couldn’t stay too long—Lindsey was home alone, after all—and Susannah might use up what time they had by lingering over her damned coffee. What he wanted so much his body nearly shook from the wanting was not going to happen. Not unless she was teasing him right now, pretending not to be aroused when she was actually in the same crazed state he was in.
But he didn’t like games. One of the things about Susannah that appealed to him was that she didn’t seem to be the game-playing type.
Her kitchen was brightly lit. The cat trailed them in, leaped onto a chair and eyed Toby arrogantly. Susannah opened and slammed cabinet doors, searching for a mug, then filters, then a can of coffee. The noise was jarring—and her silence was even more jarring.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. He’d never been a slick operator; he’d never learned any smooth moves. Maybe she’d wanted to be seduced more emphatically. Maybe she’d expected him to sweep her off her feet and carry her up the stairs like Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind.
“No.” Her hands trembled as she attempted to scoop coffee into the filter-lined basket.
“Then what’s going on here? Why are you so nervous?” he asked. He heard impatience in his tone, reflecting the impatience that nibbled at the edges of his mind.
She pressed the button to start the coffeemaker, then spun around to confront him, her face set in a benign smile that he didn’t believe for a minute. When her gaze locked with his, the smile faded slightly, becoming more genuine. “I like you, Toby,” she said. “But I’m just…” She sighed. He saw anguish in her eyes. “I’m trying to hold on to my independence, okay?”
Her independence? Did she think that making love with him would steal her independence away? Did she think he intended to enslave her?
She must have sensed his doubt. Even the cat seemed to sense it. He leaped onto the table and walked to the edge closest to Susannah, silently imploring her to pick him up. Susannah obeyed, gathering the cat into her arms and combing her fingers through his fur. “I’m not ready to get involved with anyone right now,” she explained.
He still didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to argue. Her kisses had said yes, but her words were saying no, and he couldn’t ignore her words.
“All right,” he said quietly, hiding his frustration behind a stoic facade. He stared for a minute at her fingers plowing deep into her cat’s fur. They were slender yet strong, and it irked him that her cat was getting the caresses he wanted for himself. He took a step backward, as if a few more feet of distance between Susannah an
d himself might make him desire her a little less.
“It’s not just me,” she went on, as though aware that he needed persuading. “There’s Lindsey to think about. I mean, if we were to…well, whatever it was we were going to do—”
“Make love,” he said deliberately. Stoicism didn’t suit him. He was seething, and he wanted Susannah to feel as uncomfortable as he did.
He didn’t rattle her as much as he’d hoped. “Make love,” she agreed, still stroking the cat, her eyes crystalline as she lifted them to meet his. His anger only seemed to strengthen her resolve. “How would it affect Lindsey if we were to do that?”
“I’ve been trying really hard to stop basing all my decisions on how they’d affect Lindsey.”
A smile flitted across her lips. “Well, then…I guess this decision is going to be based on how it would affect me.” The hint of a smile vanished, and she returned her attention to the coffeemaker. “I’m not looking for a romance.”
“Just a friendship,” he deduced, his anger cooled by a splash of irony. “Isn’t that what they say in Hollywood? ‘We’re just friends.’”
“Do you mind being just friends with me?” she asked in a small, hesitant voice.
A dry laugh escaped him. “I think I can handle it.”
She turned back to him. “Because I treasure this friendship, Toby. I want us to stay friends. I want to come and observe you while you work. And I want to help you out with Lindsey if you need it. We can make a good friendship here, don’t you think?”
A good friendship. He supposed he could use one of those. He would have preferred to have that good friendship with someone he hadn’t kissed the way he’d kissed Susannah, someone who didn’t turn him on simply by existing. Someone who didn’t keep him up at night, in every possible interpretation of the phrase.
But if he couldn’t have anything more than a friendship with Susannah, so be it. As his friend, she would still be his sounding board when he had concerns about Lindsey. And he’d still be able to help her with tasks that required a man, whether they entailed hanging a mirror or rescuing her from an avid crowd of fans. He could do that for her.
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